


Impervius

by ravenclawsquill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, Banter, Begging, Bickering, Bottom Draco, Case Fic, Competence Kink, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Disastrous Transfiguration, Drizzle - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Forced Proximity, Hideous Decor, Humor, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Pink Umbrella - Freeform, Rain, Rimming, Romance, Top Harry, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wet Clothing, pub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenclawsquill/pseuds/ravenclawsquill
Summary: Harry and Draco are working together on a case in the beautiful English Lake District. Or, it would be beautiful if only it would stop raining. Fortunately, Harry has an umbrella. Unfortunately, it's pink and frilly, and Draco would rather die than share it with him.
Featuring a cursed cave, endless bickering and a pesky flock of sheep.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HP-Drizzle 2016 in response to prompt #83: sharing an umbrella.
> 
> I had so much fun with this prompt. I started planning a perfectly respectable story, but my imagination quickly ran away with me and things took a turn for the ridiculous. I can only hope that it’s half as much fun to read as it was to write.
> 
> I’d like to say a huge thank you to josephinestone for giving me the push I needed to continue this story when I was ready to abandon it, and to carpemermaid, my flexible, positive and patient beta. Thank you also to digthewriter for such an excellent prompt, and for arranging such a wonderful fest.
> 
> Finally, I'd like to apologise to the poor old lady who glanced over my shoulder during her morning commute and inadvertently caught an eyeful of the boys in a very compromising position indeed.

“Auror Potter, may I have a word?”

Harry put down his quill and fought the urge to groan. It was never a good sign when the boss called someone into their office this late on a Friday afternoon. 

Harry followed Robards into his office and was surprised to find Draco Malfoy standing inside, looking deeply bored. Malfoy said nothing, but acknowledged Harry with a nod.

Robards began rifling through the many piles of paper which littered his desk. His untidiness was legendary amongst Ministry staff – it had lost him a staggering six secretaries since Harry had joined the team.

Several long minutes passed, during which Harry tried several times to catch Malfoy’s eye, while Malfoy painstakingly avoided Harry’s gaze.

Unusually, Malfoy was wearing his Curse Breaker robes over his suit; they were an odd, jarringly bright shade of cerulean. Harry and Malfoy crossed paths at work from time to time, but Harry couldn’t recall ever having seen him wear them before. Looking at him now, Harry thought he understood why Malfoy didn’t wear his work robes. The vivid colour was almost offensive against his pale skin.

Robards finally found what he was looking for: a roughly bundled stack of documents, the top page of which bore a large coffee stain. Malfoy looked faintly horrified at the state of it but held his tongue.

Robards looked at Harry, then at Malfoy, before launching into his explanation.

“A new case has come in. It’s not exactly a big ticket assignment, but I understand that you,” he gestured at Harry, “have been pestering your colleagues about getting more fieldwork, and this fits the bill.” 

Harry felt his cheeks flush. He wasn’t sure whether Robards was joking about the pestering; the Head Auror’s Welsh lilt made it difficult to tell sometimes. 

It was true, though. The Senior Aurors were so protective of Harry that he barely ever escaped the confines of his desk. He tried not to moan about it too much, but the occasional complaint slipped out from time to time, usually during team lunches at the pub.

“Well, I—” he mumbled, but was quickly cut off by the sound of Malfoy clearing his throat.

“Thrilling as the underlying tensions of the Auror Office may be, I have plans this evening and have already been held up quite long enough. What does the case involve?”

Harry couldn’t believe Malfoy’s cheek. If any Auror had dared to speak to Robards in a tone even half as rude, they'd have found themselves on Obliviation duty for a month.

To Harry’s surprise, Robards simply nodded.

“As I said, it’s not exactly a sexy case. We’ve received reports of dark activity around a cave, up in Cumbria.” 

He took out a photograph. It showed the mouth of a large cave, yawning on the face of a grassy mountainside. The site looked pleasant enough; The cave itself looked to be formed from smooth slate, and patches of springy green bracken could be seen swaying in the breeze at its entrance.

“There’s something – possibly some kind of curse – working to draw Muggles into the cave. What happens when they’re in there, we don't know, but they’ve been turning up all over the place. We suspect they’re being transported by unregistered Portkeys.”

Malfoy had taken out a Quick-Quotes Quill and notebook. The sound of the quill scratching frantically against the page left Harry feeling unprepared, and he fought the urge to fidget.

“So far we are aware of fourteen victims, turning up in seemingly random locations as far away as the Isle of Man. There’s a map in the file showing where each Muggle was found,” Robards added, gesturing to the messy pile of paperwork.

“And what condition were the Muggles in when they were found?” Malfoy asked, looking as though he really couldn’t care less.

Robards almost smiled; this was clearly the question he had wanted them to ask. “That’s the funny part, Mr Malfoy. Aside from having been robbed of any valuable possessions, they’ve all been fine. A little confused, but no signs of lasting damage.”

Malfoy nodded. His quill was still dashing back and forth, having taken several pages of notes.

Robards waited a few moments for the quill to stop moving. “Any further questions?”

“Will it just be the two of us working on the case?” Harry asked.

“Well, it’s a small case. I don’t see the need to involve anyone else. It was hard enough to convince the Curse Breakers to lend us Mr Malfoy. Surely you can handle it?”

“Of course we can,” Malfoy answered smoothly, rolling his eyes at Harry.

Harry nodded in agreement, though he felt slightly uneasy. He had no doubt that he and Malfoy could work together effectively; they had done so on a number of occasions in the past, and their relationship these days was cordial, if a little strained. Even so, it was sure to be slightly awkward. They had always worked together as part of a large team and consciously kept their interactions to a minimum.

Robards cast a quick _Gemino_ on the stack of papers, creating an exact copy, right down to the coffee stain. He handed them each a pile. Malfoy immediately drew his wand and bound the untidy bundle into a neat book.

“What about transport arrangements?” Harry asked.

“Given that there may be unstable magic in the area, I have arranged a secure Apparition point for nine o’clock on Monday morning,” said Robards. “You will leave from the Auror Office. As you’re likely to be out there for a few days, I’ll also ask one of the secretaries to arrange overnight accommodation for you both for the duration of next week.”

“Thanks,” Harry nodded. He was relieved that the case could wait until after the weekend. It would give him a chance to read through the file.

“If that’s all, I’ll be off,” Malfoy drawled. “See you on Monday, Potter. Try to arrive on time, for once.” With that, he turned on his heel and swept from the room in a blur of cerulean.

***

Harry got up half an hour early on Monday morning, determined not to be late. Even so, he found himself dashing along the corridor to the Auror Office at ten minutes past nine, breathing heavily, his forehead damp with sweat.

He burst through the door at speed and barged straight into a warm body, almost knocking his victim to the floor. His stomach sank as he realised who he had bumped into.

Malfoy had foregone both his work robes and his suit today, and was instead wearing casual black trousers, a green jumper and a scowl. Harry blinked. Seeing Malfoy in any type of Muggle dress was disorientating enough, but this casual attire added another dimension of strangeness, particularly as it suited him very well.

“How kind of you to turn up,” he snapped, realigning the neckline of his jumper with the collar of the white shirt beneath it. “I hope you’re aware that I’ve had to sideline a very nasty cursed objects case to assist with this matter, which will potentially double my workload over the coming weeks. I will not tolerate you wasting my time.”

“And I won’t tolerate you speaking to me like that!” Harry replied, hotly. He was suddenly acutely aware that many of the desks in the room were occupied by his colleagues; he could feel the burn of their eyes upon him. He glared around the room in a silent challenge and was pleased when many of them looked away, embarrassed, and returned to their paperwork.

The Apparition point had been set up in the far corner of the room, by the stationery cupboard. It was marked by a faintly glowing floor tile.

Malfoy went first. He stepped purposefully onto the glimmering square and disappeared with a loud crack, like the sound of a gunshot.

Harry took a deep breath and steeled himself before following suit. This was going to be a nightmare.

***

Harry materialised on the hillside and took a gulp of fresh air – even after all these years, he hated the claustrophobic crush of Apparition and avoided it wherever possible. It tasted clean and cool, a welcome relief from the stuffy Auror Office.

When the dizziness wore off, he took a look around. He was stood a short distance from the mouth of the cave. His immediate surroundings looked much as they had in the photograph, but with one noticeable difference: it was drizzling. The grey clouds cast a desolate atmosphere, muting the natural colours of the mountainside.

Harry looked down into the valley, expecting to see a picturesque lake, but was disappointed to find that the view was completely obscured by a thick blanket of mist. The prospect of beautiful scenery had been one of the few positive aspects of the whole assignment. Resigning himself to a view comprising various shades of grey, Harry turned back to face the cave.

The gloomy weather made the cave look much more imposing than Harry had expected. He knew from the case file that it was man-made; a former quarry and supposedly a popular tourist spot, though not at this time of year. The entrance was shrouded with shadows. Harry couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to wander inside of their own volition.

Malfoy was standing twenty feet away, closer to the entrance, using his wand to shoot yellow sparks into the air. Harry could see the rain bouncing off what appeared to be an invisible shield, hovering a few inches above his blond head. He couldn’t help but appreciate the spellwork – a hovering _Impervius_ charm was a nice touch.

Harry moved towards the cave, but walked straight into an invisible wall. “What—?”

“Don’t even think about it, Potter!” Malfoy called, without looking over. “You can stay well out of the way until I’ve finished the diagnostics. The last thing I need is for the great _Chosen One_ to get himself blown up under my watch.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth, but no words came out. He was speechless with fury at Malfoy’s implication that he, Harry Potter, needed babysitting. Even worse, he knew that Malfoy was right: diagnostics were very much a Curse Breaker exercise, and Harry had ended up in St Mungo’s on more than one occasion as a direct result of skipping this stage of an investigation. 

Harry knew it would be pointless to antagonise Malfoy by disabling the wards, so settled for giving him a dirty look. Then, with nothing else to do, he cast his own _Impervius_ and sat down on a large, wet rock to wait.

For the next couple of hours, Harry watched from a distance as Malfoy cast a series of increasingly complicated diagnostic spells all around the area in front of the entrance to the cave. Many of them were unfamiliar to Harry, and they made for quite a display.

Bright sparks of every colour burst from Malfoy’s wand into sky, as if the mountainside was the setting for the world’s most unlikely fireworks display. Other spells were noise-based and filled the air with crackling, popping, loud bangs and, once, the sound of a woman’s voice, humming. One incantation made the ground vibrate: Harry looked on as Malfoy paced back and forth, slightly unsteady on his feet.

Every so often, a spell would result in a particularly violent reaction, and Malfoy would mark the spot by drawing a large red X in the air. Harry remembered Hermione using a similar spell, once upon a time, in the Department of Mysteries.

Finally, Malfoy came over to where Harry was sitting. He passed smoothly through the invisible wards, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Well, I can officially confirm that this case is a huge waste of time,” he muttered, folding his arms across his chest. 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

"I can’t detect a single curse," Malfoy sighed. "There’s obviously something going on, and it's not particularly friendly – there are plenty of jinxes and hexes littered around – but none of the four B's are present. I don't understand why they've bothered to send me out here."

"The four B's?" Harry asked, confused. 

"Bones, bodies, blood, brains," he reeled off, rolling his eyes at Harry’s shudder. "Traces of one or more will generally be detectable in the vicinity of any moderate or severe curse, but there's nothing like that here."

"I don't know how you do you your job. Curse breaking is so gory and …" Harry paused, searching for the right word, " _dark_." 

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "Mmm, because the life of an Auror hardly involves any exposure to dark magic. Besides, I think you'd be hard pressed to find someone with greater experience of dark magic than yourself; you were a bloody _Horcrux_ , for Christ's sake." 

Harry shrugged. He couldn't argue with that.

“So does that mean it’s safe to enter the cave?” Harry asked. The sooner they could get inside, the sooner Harry would be able to get to work.

Malfoy shook his head. “Absolutely not. They may not be curses, but some of those jinxes could still do a reasonable amount of damage.” He thought for a moment, staring up at the cave. “I think the best approach would be for me to disable each of them in turn, working towards the entrance of the cave. You can assist by maintaining a shield charm around me – no need for anything flashy, just a _Protego Totallus_ or similar.”

Harry’s temper flared. “I’m not your assistant, Malfoy.”

Malfoy smirked, rising to the challenge. “Do you know how to deactivate an _Orbus_ jinx? How about an Instant Scalping hex?” He shook his head at Harry’s silence, and his tone turned scathing. “Of course you don’t. For some reason, you and your colleagues seem to believe that you’re above learning such things. Much easier to call the Curse Breakers out to do your dirty work, isn't it? It’s not as if we have cases of our own to deal with.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say. Fortunately, Malfoy didn’t seem to expect a response and continued, in a more neutral voice, “As I suggested, you can cast a shield charm. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to sit on that nice hard rock for another day or two?”

Harry climbed clumsily to his feet, wincing. His arse had gone to sleep from sitting for so long.

“Good. Let’s get started, shall we?” Malfoy turned away as he spoke, but not before Harry caught a glimpse of his smug expression. 

They worked their way through the first four curses without incident, though it took far longer than Harry could have anticipated.

Malfoy approached each spell with the systematic precision of a bomb disposal expert. And Harry had to admit, he really _was_ an expert. He unpicked each strand of magic, often pausing to secure loose threads in a web of his own spells before finally detonating those which remained. 

It was fascinating to watch, and more than a little bit distracting for Harry. He was so absorbed in Malfoy’s work that his shield charm was beginning to waver.

When Malfoy triggered the fifth jinx, it caused an explosion. A shard of slate slipped through Harry’s shield and struck Malfoy on the cheek. 

“What the hell was that, Potter?” he snarled, his hand flying to his face and coming away bloody.

Harry was horrified. “I'm so sorry.”

Malfoy shot Harry a narrow-eyed glare as he wiped his cheek with his sleeve, blood staining his white cuff.

“This isn’t even O.W.L standard magic, Potter!” he spat. “How on earth did you manage to qualify as an Auror if a simple shield charm is beyond you?”

Harry gritted his teeth, his cheeks flaming. “Shut up,” he ground out.

The next hour was spent in stony silence, with the exception of the loud growling sounds emanating from Harry’s stomach. Malfoy pretended not to notice, and Harry was eventually forced to accept that there wasn't going to be a lunch break.

The situation was made even worse by the miserable weather. It wasn't even _proper rain_ ; just a pathetic, light drizzle that hung heavily in the air, saturating every breath they took and causing the fingertips of Harry’s wand hand to wrinkle.

Midway through the afternoon, Harry noticed that despite his efforts to regularly top up his _Impervius_ canopy, his hair was getting damp. Just slightly – barely damp enough to distinguish from the ever-present moisture in the air – but once he had noticed, it was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. 

A glance over at Malfoy confirmed that he was struggling with the same problem, only to a far greater degree; his blond hair was plastered to his forehead, curling outwards slightly at the tips. The dishevelled look was a far cry from his usual, immaculate appearance. Harry knew he was staring, but he couldn't look away.

Malfoy abruptly ended his spell and cast yet another _Impervius_ , which began to leak immediately. He paused, looking incredibly frustrated, then peeled off his wet jumper, revealing a crisp white shirt. 

“Shield, Potter,” he called to Harry. Harry hadn’t even realised that his charm had ended. He was stood foolishly, his wand still held high in the air, doing absolutely nothing. He quickly constructed a new shield.

They only disabled one more spell – a well-hidden Stinging hex – before Malfoy gave up and put away his wand. The remnants of his last spell glimmered in the air for a moment before fading away.

"Right, I've had enough," he said. He marched over to stand beside Harry, his boots sinking into the mud and making revolting squelching sounds with every step.

Malfoy was soaked. His white shirt clung to his body like a translucent second skin, so closely that Harry could see his nipples, two faint points of colour, through the fabric. 

An unexpected rush of arousal shot through Harry’s veins. He tore his eyes away and shook his head to clear the thought. It didn't matter how wet his shirt was, this was _Malfoy_.

Oblivious to Harry’s train of thought, Malfoy grabbed Harry's arm firmly. Harry looked at him, confused. As an unspoken rule, they kept a reasonable distance from one another. The last time they'd had any physical contact had been on that awful night, eleven years ago, when they had flown from the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement.

"Well, are you going to Apparate, or not?" Malfoy asked. 

Harry frowned. "Why can't you do it yourself?" 

Malfoy sighed in utter exasperation. "In case you hadn't noticed, _I_ have been performing complicated analytical and diagnostic charms for the last five hours, whereas _you_ have been standing around, occasionally casting a simple shield charm. I'm knackered, Potter." 

“Oh. Sorry.” 

Malfoy did look tired. The shadow of a bruise was beginning to bloom along his cheekbone where the piece of slate had hit him.

With a loud crack, Harry Apparated them away from the desolate hillside.

***

They appeared in a narrow, deserted lane. Harry was relieved to find that his concentration had held out and neither of them had been splinched.

“Okay, the place we’re staying at should be just up this way,” Harry said, picturing the map in his mind.

Malfoy let Harry lead the way. Without the exertion of casting spells to keep him warm, he had started to shiver violently.

The walk was a short one, taking them along a couple of narrow streets which were dominated by guest houses. Harry quickly spotted what he was looking for. “There it is,” he grimaced.

A cheerfully painted pink sign welcomed them to “Mrs Tiggywinkle’s B&B”.

Malfoy’s jaw dropped. “A bed & breakfast?” he scoffed. “I see there are no expenses spared in the Auror office.”

“No,” agreed Harry. “We tend to use all of our resources on catching dark witches and wizards, rather than waste them on flashy hotels.”

He half-dragged Malfoy to the front door before he could complain any further.

They were checked in by a young girl of about sixteen, who advised them that the eponymous owner was out, but would probably see them at breakfast.

Harry was very much looking forward to putting some distance between himself and Malfoy, and was about to head upstairs to his room when Malfoy cleared his throat.

“Shall we take an hour or so to dry off and meet down here for dinner? Say, seven o’clock?”

Harry was baffled. Malfoy had shown him nothing but disdain all day, and had clearly been itching to get away from him. Harry had been certain that they would spend the evening separately, but apparently he was mistaken.

“Erm, yeah. Fine.” Harry nodded, feeling awkward.

Malfoy stalked past him and disappeared up the stairs.

Harry headed to his own room to dry off and try very hard (and ultimately unsuccessfully) to think of anything other than Malfoy’s wet shirt.

***

Harry wandered downstairs an hour later to find Malfoy waiting in the hallway of the B&B, looking considerably more like his usual pristine self. He had clearly showered – his hair was neatly back in place – though it had done precious little to wash away his scowl.

He was dressed smartly in a black shirt and grey trousers. Harry suddenly felt self-conscious of his jeans and jumper, and wished he had made more of an effort.

“It's stopped raining,” Malfoy said, gesturing to the front door.

This was welcome news, though it seemed a little too good to be true.

“Shall we just go to the first pub we find?” suggested Harry. “I don’t fancy getting soaked if it starts again.”

Malfoy nodded and led the way outside. Harry followed, and they walked along the road in silence. He still wasn't sure why Malfoy had proposed that they eat together.

They quickly found a pub. It was an old stone building, with crooked windows and a heavy oak door. Harry was delighted: it was exactly the type of cosy inn he’d been hoping for.

Stepping through the door of the pub was like sinking into a familiar embrace; the smell of ale hung heavily in the air, accompanied by background notes of smoke and wet dog. The small room was packed with Muggles dressed in hiking gear (Harry took this as confirmation that Malfoy was, indeed, overdressed), and there was a fire roaring in the grate at the back of the room. 

Harry marched across the flagstone floor to the bar, stepping over several tired-looking dogs. Malfoy followed, looking rather less pleased at Harry’s choice of venue. 

"I'll have a pint of, erm," Harry paused, his eyes roaming over the many taps at the bar, " … Coniston Bluebird, please." The barman nodded, then looked towards Malfoy. 

"Gin and tonic, ice and a slice.”

"You can't come to a proper Lake District pub and not have a local ale!" Harry teased. 

Malfoy frowned. "I don't _like_ ale." 

"Come on, Malfoy. Everyone likes ale." 

Malfoy sniffed. "Well, I’m not everyone. It tastes of yeast, and the serving size is ridiculous. What other beverage would you drink by the pint?" 

Harry shrugged. "Milk?” This was clearly not the answer Malfoy was looking for. “Suit yourself."

They ordered their food and stood at the bar with their drinks to wait for it. Harry let the cosy atmosphere wash over him. It felt a world away from the rainy mountainside.

Harry took a gulp of ale, savouring the rich, hoppy flavour. He watched the bubbles clinging to the inner edges of Malfoy’s glass. "I've never had a gin and tonic before. Can I try it?" 

"Absolutely not,” said Malfoy tightly.

Harry ignored him. He grabbed the tall glass, took a sip, and grinned. It tasted almost exactly as he'd expected: sharp, cold and slightly bitter. The drink was a perfect match for Malfoy. 

Malfoy was staring at Harry, his curiosity just outweighing his outrage. "What?" 

Harry shrugged. "It's not bad, a bit sharp. Suits you." 

If Malfoy wondered what Harry meant by this, he was far too stubborn to ask. He kept his lips pressed tightly together and reached across the bar for a straw. 

"Are you trying to suggest that I have some kind of germs, Malfoy?" Harry asked, in mock offence.

Malfoy pretended to wipe the edge of his glass with his sleeve. "You're an Auror, Potter. I have no idea where you've been.”

Harry was saved from having to think of a reply by the arrival of their food. They took their plates over to the only free table. It was tiny and slightly wobbly, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed by stacking a few beer mats under one of its legs. At least it was close to the fire.

It had been a very long time since breakfast, and Harry was starving. He dug into his steak and ale pie with enthusiasm, smashing through the puff pastry lid and shovelling forkfuls into his mouth in quick succession. He had cleared half the plate before he even looked up from it. When he did, Malfoy was staring at him in disbelief. 

"Hungry, Potter?"

"After a long day out in the rain with no lunch? Yeah, I am. We can't all be like you and exist on a diet of oxygen and negativity." 

Malfoy smirked and took a neat bite of his sea bass. Harry wondered if he had ever eaten a pie in his life.

When they had finished eating, Harry took out his wand and, keeping it concealed beneath the table, cast a quick _Muffliato_. Satisfied that they wouldn't be overheard, he returned his wand to his pocket. Malfoy was looking at him, perplexed. 

"It's a spell to prevent Muggles from overhearing our conversation," he explained. "If they get too close, they'll just hear —”

"I'm familiar with the _Muffliato_ spell," Malfoy snapped. "I just don't see why you would need it here." 

Harry proceeded to reach into his bag for the case file, ignoring Malfoy's exasperated sigh. 

"Honestly, Potter. What more are you expecting to find in there? We've both read it cover to cover, and it's about as simple as these cases get." 

"I know, but I just want to be sure I haven't missed anything … " 

Harry flicked through the summary pages, but Malfoy was right. There was nothing in there that they hadn't already considered. The day’s events, though interesting enough, hadn't shed any new light on the case.

Harry persisted, though. He reasoned that he and Malfoy were less likely to end up hexing each other if they focused on work. 

He found the suspect profile near the back of the file. It was a very short and unhelpful document.

“Did the jinxes used outside the cave give you any feel for the background of the caster?” he asked Malfoy. This wasn’t technically part of a Curse Breaker’s role, but he was interested to find out what Malfoy made of it all.

The blond paused for a moment, thinking. The flickering light of the fire danced across his sharp features, bathing them in warm colours. It made him look softer, somehow.

After about a minute, Malfoy spoke. “Not particularly. They’re all pretty standard, and some of them are even on the fringes of the Hogwarts curriculum. There’s a chance it could be a former Hogwarts pupil. Why do you ask?”

Harry took out a biro and scrawled this down on the suspect profile. Malfoy cringed, though Harry couldn't tell whether this was a response to his choice of stationery or his messy handwriting.

Harry set down his pen and continued. "I think they’re probably a Half-blood. Muggle-borns don't typically target Muggles, and Pure-bloods tend to use more complicated spellwork. They clearly have some familiarity with the Muggle community, or they wouldn't have any interest in stealing Muggle money. But the fact that they’re stopping short of using actual curses, and aren’t killing or even really harming the victims … well, that suggests the theft is their main motivation, and any spell damage is just collateral.”

Malfoy was watching Harry with great interest. He remained silent, apparently anxious not to break Harry’s train of thought. They were firmly in Harry’s area of expertise now.

Harry had unconsciously picked up his pen, and he chewed the end as he considered why a witch or wizard would want to hoard Muggle money. Malfoy’s gaze followed the pen as Harry ran the tip back and forth over his bottom lip.

“There’s a good chance that it’s someone preparing to turn their back on the Wizarding world,” he mused.

Malfoy nodded in agreement, looking almost impressed. “If I were trying to escape the Wizarding world, I'd prioritise accumulating some Muggle money, too," he murmured.

There was an awkward moment as Harry wondered whether Malfoy had ever seriously considered running away. 

Uncomfortable, Harry went to the bar for another drink. This time he bought two pints. Malfoy rolled his eyes when Harry set the large glass down in front of him, but he took a sip without complaint.

Harry sat back down and realised that the case file was no longer on the table. He opened his mouth to ask where it was, but Malfoy got there first.

“I think we’ve spent more than enough time thinking about work today,” he said. 

He was right, of course, but it left them without a safe topic.

“Okay, what do you want to talk about then?” asked Harry, putting the burden of where to go next firmly on Malfoy’s shoulders.

There was a moment’s pause.

“What do you make of the decor in your room?” Malfoy asked delicately, unable to hide the ghost of a smirk.

Harry snorted. “It’s the second ugliest room I’ve ever seen.”

“Only the second ugliest? Mine must be worse than yours then. More doilies than you can shake a broom at.” He shuddered.

“The winner would be Umbridge’s office at Hogwarts, obviously,” Harry clarified.

“Good point. That woman had the poorest taste I’ve ever come across.”

To Harry’s utter surprise, the conversation flowed freely from there. They spent the next hour talking, and though Malfoy made a number of snarky comments, none of them were directed at Harry.

Somewhere between debating which Hogwarts house had the best common room and discussing the design of the new Nimbus 3000, Malfoy bought each of them a gin & tonic. He set the glasses down on the table and took out a single straw. “Just in case you feel the need to put your grubby Auror mouth all over my drink again.”

Harry decided that a few drinks made a significant improvement to his former rival. As Malfoy grew tipsier his cool demeanor began to slip away and a slight flush crept up his neck. Harry watched as he visibly relaxed, his movements becoming slower, smoother and – Harry tried not to let himself think it – sexier.

Finally, they drained their glasses and reluctantly agreed that it was time to leave. The previously bustling pub was almost empty. Harry dragged himself away from the cosy table by the fire and moved towards the door, trying hard not to stagger. Malfoy, meanwhile, seemed perfectly steady on his feet.

Night had fallen while they were in the pub, and the air outside was refreshingly cool and damp. Harry was unsurprised to find that it had started to rain again. Luckily the walk back to the B&B was short enough that they didn’t get too wet.

As Malfoy closed the front door behind them, Harry remembered that he’d been meaning to ask a question. Now that they had left the relaxed atmosphere of the pub behind them, Malfoy seemed to have sobered up considerably, and Harry wasn't quite brave enough to address him by his first name. 

"Malfoy?" 

"Potter." 

"Why couldn't our _Impervius_ charms keep the rain off? Is it something to do with dark magic?" 

Malfoy tutted. "Of course it isn't. Your knowledge of magical theory really is dreadful, you know.”

Harry chose not to rise to the bait, and instead looked at Malfoy expectantly, waiting for him to explain.

“ _My_ charm kept leaking because I was focusing my magic on untangling the jinxes.” He paused and looked at Harry knowingly. His pupils were noticeably dilated, probably due to the alcohol. “I suspect that _your_ charm is failing due to a lack of concentration. You're by far the most distractible Auror I’ve ever worked with.”

Harry felt his cheeks redden. He wanted to contest this, but could hardly explain that the biggest distraction had been Malfoy himself, clever and competent and soaked to the skin in that damn white shirt.

"Right … so it's like that thing where you try to pat your head and rub your tummy at the same time, and get all mixed up?" Harry asked. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Potter. Goodnight." With that, Malfoy stalked up the stairs, muttering something which sounded suspiciously like the word "lunatic" under his breath. 

Harry went to his own bedroom and flopped down on the bed without even pausing to take off his shoes. He was asleep within minutes.

***

Harry woke up late the next morning. He showered at speed and threw on some clean clothes before running downstairs for breakfast.

Malfoy, punctual as ever, was already sat at a table by the misty window of the otherwise deserted dining room, with a large, ruddy-faced woman standing over him. It seemed he had been cornered by the infamous Mrs Tiggywinkle. Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment that Malfoy’s shirt was blue today, rather than white.

“ … fell running really is the king of sports, it’d put a bit of colour in those pale cheeks of yours!" she boomed, in a heavy Northern accent. Then she leaned forward and actually _pinched Malfoy's cheeks_. He sat stiffly in his chair, his jaw clenched. Harry wasn't sure whether to laugh or run for cover. 

He settled for clearing his throat, loudly. "Morning!" he said brightly, unable to completely wipe the grin from his face. 

Their host beamed at him and introduced herself, but it was immediately apparent that Malfoy’s good mood from last night had evaporated.

"Up at last, are you?” Malfoy drawled. “Did you enjoy your lie in?” His grey eyes lingered for a moment on Harry’s jawline, taking in the hint of stubble that had cropped up overnight. Harry wished he’d had time to shave.

Sensing the frosty atmosphere, Mrs Tiggywinkle abandoned her lecture and bustled off into the kitchen.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Malfoy leaned in. 

“Potter, we are _not_ staying here again tonight!” he hissed.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, slightly taken aback by the venom in Malfoy’s voice.

"It's unbearable! There are teddy bears on my bed! The toilet is pink! And I was certainly not expecting to be … _accosted_ … over breakfast,” he spluttered. He really did look quite ruffled; his cheeks were still flushed from being pinched.

Harry was still trying to formulate a response when Mrs Tiggywinkle’s heavy footsteps came thudding along the hallway. She reappeared a moment later, bearing a fresh pot of tea. 

"What is it that you're doing here then, boys?" she asked.

"Geological survey," they repeated in unison, sounding utterly unconvincing. 

"And I'm afraid that we really must get out there," Malfoy added, flashing her a polite smile.

“What about my breakfast?” Harry asked. From Malfoy’s empty plate, it looked as though he had enjoyed a full English.

Malfoy's smile slipped seamlessly into an icy glare. “If you wanted breakfast, you should have got up an hour earlier.”

Harry grabbed a slice of cold toast from the rack. There was no butter. He crammed it into his mouth, then took a scalding sip of tea as Malfoy stood up and walked out into the hallway.

They quickly grabbed what they needed from their rooms and met by the front door a few minutes later.

As Harry followed Malfoy outside into the rain, he noticed an ornate umbrella stand by the front door, bearing a small sign which read "Sharing is caring! Feel free to borrow!". The other guests had clearly already taken this offer up; there was a single pink umbrella left in the stand. 

After a moment's pause, Harry shrunk it and shoved it into his bag. He reasoned that he might as well take it, if only to see the look on Malfoy’s face.

***

When they arrived at the cave, Harry waited until Malfoy’s back was turned before removing the umbrella from his bag. He opened it with a pleasing _swoosh_. It was a lurid shade of pink, lavishly decorated with ruffles and frills of varying sizes; it gave Harry a sudden flashback of Professor Umbridge.

He wasn't optimistic that it would be sturdy enough to withstand the rain for long, but it would at least give him a short break from maintaining an _Impervius_ charm. 

Malfoy glanced over and did a double take. "What on earth is that, Potter?" he spat. 

"An umbrella?" Harry replied, confused. Surely Malfoy knew what an umbrella was; Hagrid's umbrella had been infamous at Hogwarts, after all. 

"It's horrific." Malfoy's eyes traced the particularly large frill which ran around the rim of the umbrella. He looked slightly queasy. 

"It's not mine," Harry said, quickly. "I borrowed it from the B&B."

Malfoy continued to stare, apparently lost for words.

“We can share it, if you like,” Harry offered. 

Malfoy’s upper lip curled. "Potter, I wouldn't stand beneath that monstrosity if my life depended on it." 

"Suit yourself,” Harry grinned. “You'll be jealous when your hair gets wet, though.”

They picked up where they had left off the previous evening, with Harry casting shield charms to protect Malfoy as he untangled and detonated the various hexes and jinxes. 

Harry was pleased to find that his shields were far more substantial now that he wasn't trying to combine them with an _Impervius_ charm. Malfoy, meanwhile, was struggling.

Eventually, a slightly damp Malfoy conceded defeat and came to join Harry under the umbrella. Harry had to hold it up a bit higher in order to make up for their difference in height; Malfoy was several inches taller than him. The light filtering through the canopy was tinged pink, lending a slight flush to his usually pallid complexion. It wasn't altogether unflattering; it made him look almost human. 

Harry opened his mouth to tease him, but the words died on his lips at the look Malfoy gave him. "Don't even start, Potter. And at least try to hold it still." 

Malfoy got back to work, casting a series of advanced diagnostic spells on a suspicious jinx that he had thus far been unable to identify. It was the last spell preventing them from accessing the cave itself.

With no immediate requirement for a shield charm, Harry focused on keeping them dry.

The umbrella really was very small; they were almost pressed against each other, chest to chest, so close that Harry could feel the faint vibrations of Malfoy's magic thrumming in the air around them. 

With Malfoy’s gaze fixed on the jinx, Harry was free to look at him properly. He was just as pale as he had been at school, but he had grown into his distinctive features. The pointed nose and chin which had looked so sharp on him as a boy were now striking, and his fair skin was marked only by the small bruise from the previous day, which had blossomed on his cheek overnight from an angry pink to a faint purple. 

Harry had only been this close to another man for such a prolonged period on one occasion in the past – and the circumstances had been rather different. He wondered if Malfoy found the closeness strange, too. Then again, Harry reasoned, Malfoy was gay, so being close to other men was probably pretty normal for him. He seemed rather more concerned by the umbrella itself than his proximity to Harry. 

A short while later, Malfoy lowered his wand, looking triumphant. “It’s a hybrid, a cross between a _Caecus_ and a _Surdi_ jinx,” he announced. Various threads of magic remained illuminated in the air, a complex web of red and green.

Harry looked at him blankly. “And what's that in English?”

“It’s an unusual combination that would leave the victim both blind and deaf for a few hours,” Malfoy explained. 

“That’s horrible,” said Harry.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the jinx, eyeing the glowing tendrils of magic as they twisted in the air. “It wouldn't be pleasant, particularly given the exposed location, but it’s pretty tame compared to a lot of the spellwork I see. Psychologically distressing, perhaps, but it wouldn't cause any physical pain or result in permanent damage.”

Harry nodded, though he didn’t think it was tame at all.

For a long moment the only sound was the patter of rain falling on the umbrella above them. Harry was suddenly very conscious that he could feel Malfoy’s body heat.

Eventually Malfoy cleared his throat and spoke again, in a lighter tone. “On that note, I think it’s time for a break.”

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a chocolate frog. He handed it to Harry, bending his arm awkwardly to do so due to the lack of space under the umbrella.

“What’s that for?” Harry asked.

Malfoy shrugged. “I’m not sure I can handle your hunger-induced irritability two days in a row, particularly at such close range.”

“Thanks.” With one hand busy holding the umbrella, Harry opened the wrapper with his teeth.

Malfoy shook his head. “You're an absolute savage,” he said with a sigh.

When Harry had finished the chocolate frog, he took out his wand.

“Can you hold the umbrella for a bit?” he asked. “I might as well check the magical signature of that jinx, see if it matches anyone on the Wanted list.”

Malfoy agreed that it was about time that Harry did some work, and muttered the word “workshy” under his breath. He took the pink plastic handle and lifted the umbrella by at least half a foot, tilting it to cover his shoulders more effectively.

Harry immediately felt the rain hitting his jeans. He tried to ignore it and get to work, but within minutes the backs of his legs were soaked through.

"Do you have to hold the umbrella so high?” he asked, irritably. “I'm getting drenched!" 

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “What do you expect me to do – squat?”

"If you weren't so freakishly tall … ” Harry grumbled, trailing off into silence at Malfoy’s smirk.

"Potter, just because you have been cursed with the stature of a Gringotts goblin, does not make six foot one freakishly tall." He stood up even straighter than usual, as if to emphasise his height.

Harry spluttered. "I do not have the build of a goblin!"

Malfoy looked Harry up and down, apparently deep in thought. "No, I suppose your legs are too scrawny,” he mused. “Oh, and you're far uglier than the average goblin." 

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm ugly, or that you fancy goblins?" Harry asked.

"The former, obviously. I doubt that even goblins fancy goblins." 

Harry chose to ignore this. "Goblins, eh?" he grinned. "I bet you love popping into Gringotts ... taking them for a ride in the dark … showing them your _assets_ …" 

Malfoy actually smiled at that. Only for an instant, and he looked furious with himself for letting it slip, but it was a definite, genuine smile. It lit up his face and showed off his sharp, white teeth. Harry’s stomach dropped as sharply as if he’d performed a Wronski Feint.

“Always lowering the tone, Potter,” Malfoy sighed, shaking his head.

They lapsed back into silence, but it was more companionable than before. 

Harry took a copy of the magical signature from the hovering jinx. The spell wavered slightly as he tried desperately not to think about Malfoy’s assets, but the blond didn't appear to notice. 

Once this exercise was complete, Harry took back the umbrella and cast a _Protego Maxima_ around them. The handle was warm where Malfoy’s fingers had been.

Malfoy began the complicated task of separating the two elements of the jinx. Threads of his magic wound their way around the two curses and pulled gently, easing them apart – it looked as if he was trying to untie a difficult knot. The jinx wasn’t going to give up easily, though. The closer Malfoy got to the centre of the spell, the more unstable it became. Red sparks began to fly through the air, ricocheting off Harry’s shield.

As Harry watched, something moved at the edge of his peripheral vision, catching his attention. 

"Concentrate, Potter," Malfoy muttered. "I can feel your shield charm wobbling." 

"Sorry, Malfoy, but … we have company." 

A flock of sheep had appeared at the far end of the field and were ambling towards the cave. Their shaggy grey coats, which looked a little bedraggled from the rain, were at odds with their white faces and legs. 

Malfoy ended his charm with a sharp flick of his wand, before looking over at their visitors. "Fantastic," he grimaced. "I bloody hate sheep." 

Harry snorted. "You hate sheep? How can anyone hate sheep?" 

Malfoy clearly didn’t see fit to respond; he was scowling at the sheep, his mouth a tight line. 

"Baaaaaah," they bleated, as they trotted towards Harry and Malfoy. They looked friendly; their little mouths turned up at each corner as if they were smiling.

Malfoy shuddered. "Let's get this last jinx finished before they get any closer,” he said.

He raised his wand and shot a series of fine golden threads of magic at the curse. They spun through the air and began to wrap around the green portion of the jinx, pulling it firmly away from the red element. Harry quickly followed suit, bolstering his shield charm around them.

Unfortunately, the sheep had other ideas. Their spindly legs were deceptive; they reached the two wizards within minutes and began to flock tightly around them. They were quickly surrounded by a sea of woolly grey coats.

"BAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”

Malfoy flinched and his spell wavered, triggering a small explosion. "I can barely hear myself think!" 

Harry’s ears were ringing. At such close range, the bleating was offensively loud. He winced in pain and shuffled even closer to Malfoy as a pointy little hoof dug sharply into his left foot.

Malfoy was getting jostled by the sheep and struggling to hold his wand steady. The jinx was beginning to glow more brightly. Harry had seen enough over the past couple of days to know that this stage of detonation required great care.

"Potter, do something about the bloody sheep!" Malfoy hissed. The sheep were seemingly attracted to the heat generated by their spellwork, and were flocking ever more tightly around them, pressing snugly against their legs. 

"What exactly do you want me do?" Harry asked through gritted teeth, his voice straining slightly with the effort of maintaining both his shield charm and his grip on the umbrella. "My hands are a little busy, in case you hadn't noticed." 

"Give me the umbrella," Malfoy snapped, as he desperately tried to nudge a particularly persistent sheep away with his knees. He reached up for the handle with his spare hand, his eyes still fixed on the glowing jinx, and his warm fingers closed over Harry’s. 

They froze for the barest hint of a moment, before Malfoy pulled his hand back as if burned. His web of magic promptly fell apart: it spluttered into a series of white sparks and disappeared with a pop, leaving the jinx intact.

"Well done,” said Harry.

Malfoy took hold of the umbrella, taking care to place his fingers several inches above Harry’s. He carefully avoided Harry’s eye as he did so, choosing instead to glare into the friendly face of the nearest sheep. His cheeks were pink, though, and Harry suspected it wasn't entirely due to the light filtering through the umbrella.

“Change of plan,” he said suddenly. “I’m just going to blast it.”

Harry quickly added a _Protego Duo_ to his _Protego Maxima_ – the last thing he needed was for Malfoy to be hit by another rock. As an afterthought, he expanded the area of the shield to cover the sheep.

Malfoy scoffed as he realised what Harry had done. “How very heroic,” he murmured.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. There were more pressing matters to be dealt with.

Malfoy was back in Curse Breaker mode. “There’s a small chance that the jinx will pass through your shield and hit us. If you find yourself deaf and blind, try not to panic. The spells aren't particularly well crafted, so the effects shouldn't last more than a couple of hours.”

Harry swallowed nervously. Consciously senseless didn't seem like a particularly appealing way to spend the rest of the morning.

“Ready?” Malfoy asked.

Harry nodded. He braced himself, channelling every bit of his magic into the shield.

Malfoy’s wand movement was clean and smooth as he triggered the jinx: “ _Confringo!_ ”

The jinx combusted with a deafening bang, shooting bright shafts of light in all directions and throwing debris up into the air.

The sheep were terrified. Their bleating became frenzied and they looked around frantically, but the silly creatures thankfully stayed in place, safely covered by Harry’s shield charm.

When the sparks had dissipated and all pieces of slate were back on the ground, Harry looked around, blinking rapidly. There was a large crater where the jinx had been, but he, Malfoy and the sheep were all unharmed.

The entrance to the cave was finally clear. Both wizards lowered their wands and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Malfoy wiped his brow with the back of his hand, then sprang back into action. 

" _Repello Ovis!_ " 

The crowd of sheep immediately began to disperse. They ambled off as quickly as they has arrived, stopping a short distance away to feast on a particularly lush patch of grass.

Harry was stunned. "How did you know—?”

"It's basic Latin. Honestly, have you never … never mind.” Malfoy had apparently decided that educating Harry on the topic of ancient languages would be fruitless, and turned to look at the flock.

"Honestly," he muttered. "The Curse Breakers’ Manual contains over a thousand pages of warnings, but I'd bet ten galleons that it makes no reference to ‘crushed to death by sheep’.”

He passed the umbrella back to Harry and they stood huddled beneath it, looking up at the entrance of the dark cave.

Even though Harry’s input had been minimal, he couldn't help but feel a rush of elation. He felt exhilarated and even a little reckless.

"You know,” he said, unable to keep a wry smile from creeping across his face, “you could have just conjured your own umbrella – transfigured one from a rock or something. If I didn’t know better, I might think that you _like_ standing so close to me."

Malfoy looked outraged. "I could hardly have transfigured myself one of those ridiculous contraptions – for a start, I don't know how it's engineered: look at those terrifying metal hinges!"

He paused, as if struck by a thought. Then the inimitable Malfoy smirk crept across his face, dangerously slowly, and Harry knew he was in trouble. "Besides ... _you_ could have used an _Engorgio_ to make your umbrella bigger if the proximity was bothering you. That's a permanent charm, so it would have left your magical reserves free to focus on the shield. I think it might be _you_ who likes standing close to _me_."

Harry didn’t have a response to that. They stood in silence for a moment, chest to chest, their faces inches apart under the pink canopy of the umbrella. Malfoy’s grey eyes were fixed intently on Harry’s face, searching for something.

The moment stretched on, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. 

It was all too much for Harry. Even though he knew it was a very, _very_ bad idea, his Gryffindor courage finally got the better of him. He recklessly closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Malfoy’s.

For an awful, agonising moment, Malfoy didn’t respond. Harry’s heart was pounding, threatening to leap out of his chest. He froze, his lips still held firmly against Malfoy’s.

Any moment now, Malfoy was going to punch Harry in the face … but the moment didn’t come, and he suddenly came alive again, running his tongue along Harry’s bottom lip.

Malfoy's lips were soft and surprisingly warm. He kissed confidently, roughly; like a man who knew what he was doing. Before long, his fingers were entwined in Harry's wet hair, pulling at it. It was strange to lean upwards whilst kissing – Harry had never kissed anyone so much taller than himself before.

Without warning, Malfoy bit down on Harry's lower lip, making him gasp. Harry’s pulse was racing and his cock was hard, trapped uncomfortably in his jeans. He found himself powerless to resist as Malfoy took the opportunity to slip his tongue into Harry’s mouth.

As they kissed, a strong gust of wind swept the umbrella from Harry's hand, pulling it up, up and away into the sky. Harry was dimly aware that he now had another free hand, but he barely noticed the rain falling on his skin.

Malfoy's breathing was becoming uneven. Harry took this as his cue to run his hands around Malfoy's waist and down onto his arse, pulling their hips flush together. Arousal surged like a storm in the pit of Harry’s stomach as he felt Malfoy’s hard cock against his own through their clothes.

Malfoy abruptly pulled away from both the kiss and Harry’s embrace. "Not here,” he gasped, “the sheep … "

The flock of sheep stood a short distance away, their smiling mouths full of grass, their innocent eyes wide with wonder. "Baaaaah…?"

Malfoy grabbed Harry's upper arm. This time Harry didn't need any prompting to Apparate.

***

They landed heavily in the hallway of the B&B, making rather more noise than Harry had intended. Both men froze for a moment, listening carefully for any sign that Mrs Tiggywinkle had heard the thud. Malfoy was clearly horrified that Harry had Apparated them to such a risky spot, but fortunately their arrival seemed to have gone unnoticed.

Malfoy grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled him roughly up the stairs. He put a finger to his lips: _shhh_. They crept along the corridor to Harry’s bedroom and snuck inside. Malfoy locked the door behind them with a loud _click_.

"So … " said Harry, awkwardly. The pause had allowed his brain to catch up with his body, and the gravity of the situation hit him, hard. He wanted to resume the kiss, but he wasn’t sure how to do so, and found himself unable to meet Malfoy's eye.

Fortunately, Malfoy wasn't so shy.

"So, indeed," he grinned. "Top or bottom?" A pulse of adrenaline shot through Harry's veins at Malfoy's casual tone.

“Top,” he said, willing his voice to remain steady.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry with great interest. “Done this before, have you?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, as it happens.” That, at least, was true. He decided Malfoy didn’t need to know that it had only happened once.

The expression on Malfoy’s face became almost predatory. For a moment, Harry thought he was going to question him further, but he seemed to change his mind.

Instead, he closed the short distance between them and ran his tongue along the rough stubble on Harry’s jawline. "Not like this, you haven't,” he murmured, his breath hot against Harry’s ear. “You'll love it, Potter," he whispered into Harry's neck.

Then Malfoy bit his neck, hard. He caught the end of Harry's gasp with a firm kiss, his fingers tangling once more in Harry's messy hair. 

As the kiss became needier, Malfoy dropped his hands from Harry’s hair and began to undo the buttons of his own blue shirt. Harry seized the opportunity to run his hands under it, revelling in the heat radiating from Malfoy’s smooth skin.

When Malfoy was naked from the waist up, he broke the kiss and looked down at Harry with one eyebrow raised. "This is a two person game, Potter. You do need to participate." 

"Right." Harry felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and he hastily bent down to remove his wet boots and socks.

A race to undress followed. Harry clumsily pulled his jumper over his head and stepped out of his jeans, but Malfoy’s head start had paid off: he was completely naked before Harry could remove his boxers. Harry finished undressing slowly, distracted by the sight before him.

Malfoy was very lean, but not nearly as bony as Harry would have expected. His skin was almost translucent in places, so pale that Harry could see the blue of his veins. His Dark Mark was clearly visible, a jarring black smear, stark against the background of his forearm. Harry let his eyes wander over Malfoy’s body, noticing the ridges of his hipbones, the pale flush of his nipples, and finishing at Malfoy’s cock, which was fully hard and a delicious shade of pink. Malfoy stood still, smirking, letting Harry stare, not the least bit abashed.

When Harry finished, Malfoy began an appraisal of his own. He circled Harry slowly, looking him up and down. Harry’s skin prickled with arousal as Malfoy’s grey eyes roamed over his body, taking in every inch of him. He felt exposed and vulnerable, and was surprised to find that he was loving every second of it.

Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, Malfoy walked over to the bed and lay face down on it, his legs spread apart.

"Well?" he drawled. 

Harry's mind was reeling. "Do you have any lube?"

"Of course I don't have any lube,” Malfoy snapped. “Were _you_ expecting to get lucky on a work assignment in the back of beyond?"

"Fair point. What shall I—?”

"Improvise!" Malfoy growled.

Harry almost laughed out loud; he should have known Malfoy would be as impatient and demanding in bed as he was in every other area of life.

He thought for a moment, planning his next move.

“Get up, on your hands and knees,” Harry ordered, surprising himself with his authoritative tone.

Malfoy complied immediately, in uncharacteristic silence. Harry was surprised; he had expected him to put up at least a bit of a fight.

Harry climbed onto the bed and dragged his fingernails slowly along the pale skin of Malfoy’s back. They left pleasing red tracks all the way from his shoulderblades to his arse. Malfoy hissed his approval, arching his spine into Harry’s touch.

Harry finished with his hands on Malfoy’s arse. He squeezed and parted Malfoy’s cheeks, exposing his tight hole. Harry’s jaw went slack at the sight of it.

After a moment’s pause, he summoned every shred of his Gryffindor courage and blew gently, letting his breath tease Malfoy’s sensitive skin.

“ _Fuck._ ”

The calm, composed Malfoy of a few minutes ago was nowhere to be seen. Harry paused for a moment, listening to his heavy breathing, relishing the feeling of having surprised his former rival.

Without warning he traced a long, slow path with his tongue, starting at Malfoy’s balls and moving all the way up, grazing over the puckered skin of his entrance. Malfoy shuddered with pleasure.

Teasing complete, Harry began to flutter his tongue lightly over Malfoy’s rim, building up to a steady rhythm and gradually increasing the pressure. Malfoy tasted musky and deliciously masculine, and his low moans resonated through Harry’s body, pooling in the pit of his stomach.

As Malfoy relaxed, Harry pointed his tongue and pushed the very tip past the tight ring of muscle. Harry found himself breathless, his face buried in Malfoy’s arse. He didn’t want this to end; he was lost in the sounds of Malfoy’s needy groans and the knowledge that he was causing them.

Despite this, Harry reluctantly pulled away when Malfoy started to push back helplessly against his tongue. This was, after all, just the warm up.

He barely gave Malfoy a moment to groan in disapproval before replacing his tongue with two fingers. They slid inside easily; Malfoy's arse was slick with Harry’s saliva.

Harry searched with his fingertips, reaching, curving his fingers just slightly … he knew he'd found the right spot when Malfoy gasped and fell down from all fours onto his elbows, gripping the sheets and twisting them in his hands. Harry stroked Malfoy’s prostate firmly, his own toes curling as he watched the blond squirm.

By the time Malfoy started pushing back to meet each thrust of Harry's fingers, Harry was panting as heavily as if their position had been reversed. He was achingly hard and almost dizzy from the heady thrill of watching his former rival come undone.

Malfoy groaned. "Fuck, Potter. Get on with it!"

“It’s Harry,” he muttered, adding a third finger.

“Get on with it, Harry, then,” he whispered, a note of desperation in his voice.

Harry couldn’t help himself. “Say please.”

Malfoy turned his head towards Harry. His cheeks were flushed pink and his skin was coated with a light sheen of sweat. He looked directly into Harry’s eyes as he murmured, “ _Please_ , Harry … _please_ , fuck me.” His sarcastic tone did nothing to dull the sharp stab of arousal that shot straight down to Harry’s hard cock.

Harry slid his fingers out, unable to wait any longer. His breath left him in a rush when he saw Malfoy’s hole, loose, ready for him.

Harry lined himself up and let his eyes fall shut as he pushed into Malfoy’s arse in one long, slow thrust. His cock slid in without resistance, though it was a tight fit.

He desperately needed to move, but forced himself to stay still, tracing patterns over Malfoy’s lower back with his fingertips as he waited for him to adjust to the burn. It was almost torturous; every nerve ending in Harry’s body was on fire, screaming for him to fuck Malfoy as hard as he could. 

Finally, Malfoy was ready. “Move,” he growled, his voice rough with need.

Harry slowly drew almost all the way out, struggling to keep the movement smooth. Malfoy groaned with pleasure, his arse tightening as the head of Harry’s cock dragged over his prostate.

In an instant, Harry was forced to abandon any hope of self-control. It was too hot, too tight, too _Malfoy_. He gripped Malfoy’s narrow hips and began to thrust helplessly; frantic, shallow thrusts which were probably too rough, though from the sounds Malfoy was making, he didn't seem to have any complaints.

Harry felt his orgasm approaching, far sooner than he had hoped. There was nothing he could do to delay it – slowing down was unthinkable. The best he could do was bring Malfoy over the edge with him.

He reached down and took Malfoy’s cock in his hand, stroking him clumsily in time with each thrust.

It was enough. Malfoy gasped his release, his cock pulsing in Harry’s hand, his arse spasming and tightening as Harry fucked him.

It only took a few more thrusts before Harry followed suit. He came hard, digging his fingernails into Malfoy’s creamy skin, making no effort to stifle his moan.

The silence that followed was punctuated only by their heavy breathing as they slowly returned to reality.

Eventually, Harry drew his cock from Malfoy’s arse and stood up. His head was spinning. Malfoy collapsed onto his stomach, burying his face in Harry’s pillows.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Finally, just as Harry was beginning to worry that they had created an awkward situation, Malfoy rolled over and broke the silence. “I was right. My room is definitely uglier than yours, there’s no contest.”

Harry grinned. “You haven't seen the en-suite, yet. There’s a pink mosaic of a kitten on the wall above the bath.”

***

Harry woke up feeling sore, breathing in the slightly musky smell of stale sex which lingered in the air.

He fumbled around for his glasses, which had fallen off the bedside table and onto the floor – presumably during the second time he and Malfoy had fucked.

He put them on and squinted around the room. The heavy curtains were still closed, cloaking the room in a state of half-darkness.

Malfoy was sat, naked, at the foot of the bed, trying to transfigure a pillowcase into an umbrella. It wasn't going well. 

“Having trouble with the hinges?” Harry asked, his voice rough with sleep.

Malfoy sniffed. “Yes, I am. It would appear that umbrellas are a masterpiece of Muggle engineering.”

He tried again, his face a picture of concentration. The result was a horrifyingly twisted metal frame, with no hinges at all and a flimsy cotton canopy that matched Harry’s flowery bedding.

Harry looked away quickly. He suspected that Malfoy wouldn't appreciate it if he burst out laughing.

To distract himself, he got up and walked over to the window. The light creeping round the edges of the curtains was bright and had a slight yellow tinge, which was surely too good to be true … he pulled the curtains an inch apart and peered eagerly through the gap.

Behind him, Malfoy threw his disastrous umbrella on the floor in frustration. “I give up, it's impossible,” he grumbled.

“Good thing you aren't going to need an umbrella, then,” Harry grinned. He pulled the curtains fully open with a flourish, bathing the room in bright sunlight.

The grey clouds which had dominated the sky since their arrival were nowhere to be seen, revealing spectacular views. Without the mist, Harry could finally see the rolling mountains which rose from all sides of the tiny village, their grassy plains criss-crossed with dry stone walls and littered with tiny grey spots that could only be sheep.

Harry looked out of the window at the view, then back at Malfoy. Perhaps this case wasn't such a bad one, after all.


End file.
